


A Yielding in the Grey

by lovelydarkanddeep



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Dark, Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, F/M, Force Bond, Grace Pregnancy, Imperial AU, Intense, Kinky, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Magical Pregnancy, Post-TLJ, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Public Display of Affection, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Renperor, Sexy, Smutty, Vaginal Fingering, heated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelydarkanddeep/pseuds/lovelydarkanddeep
Summary: "You’re so bent on turning me to the Dark. Aren’t you worried that I’ll do the same - turn you?"A timbrous laugh, deep and intoxicatingly dark."You already tried. It ended with you running from me once again, like that night in the forest. I wonder, what is it you’re running from? The Dark...or your destiny at my side?"Or: Rey knows that for Ben to come to the Light she must first fulfil his vision and let in the Dark.A Renperor/Reympress Consort AU





	1. Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skype Force Chat - angsty and sensual ;) (Real smut happens next chapter)

Rey can taste the champagne on his tongue, aureate and effervescent. It tingles over her taste buds, much like the Ordrell rock candy she’d once had as a child on Jakku (She’d found it two years expired, so perhaps it wasn’t supposed to fizz like it had).

 

She’d immediately recognized the taste of the drink despite only having tasted champagne once - weeks ago when Leia had held a Black and White gala as a fundraiser for the Resistance.

 

It’d seemed ridiculous, dressing up fancily and sipping bubbly drinks and making nice with the people they needed to sponsor them - to join them. Spending money to  _ make _ money.

 

Rey had stood uncomfortably in a custom-made gown Leia had ordered for her, the black to Poe’s white.

 

She had been inwardly glad she was the one wearing black, thinking that seeing Poe in all black would remind her too much of someone else.

 

_ Do you like the taste?  _ he asks her over their bond, sensing their connection in these brief moments.

 

She senses his smug demeanor, the disdain and attraction crackling between them despite being thousands of miles apart.

 

Rey refuses to answer, instead focusing once more on the pieces of the lightsaber sitting in front of her.

 

Faintly, if she listens hard enough, she can hear the delicate clink of champagne flutes, the soaring sound of a string quartet, and the murmur of hundreds of voices.

 

_ A coronation party _ , he informs her, not that she asked.  _ Soon I’ll take my rightful place as Emperor. _

 

_ After slaughtering millions for your throne _ , Rey is goaded into speaking, her anger getting the best of her.

 

_ Careful, Rey. Anger is the path to the Dark Side. _

 

A pause.

 

_ Then again, you never have been entirely Light. _

 

Rey finds herself gritting her teeth, fists clenched in her lap until ten crescent moons imprint the palms of her hands.

 

_ You’re so bent on turning me to the Dark. Aren’t you worried that I’ll do the same - turn you? _

 

A timbrous laugh, deep and intoxicatingly dark.

 

_ You already tried. It ended with you running from me once again, like that night in the forest. I wonder, what is it you’re running from? The Dark...or your destiny at my side? _

 

The strength of Rey’s anger force-pushed the lightsaber pieces away from her and threw them into the wall, the Force crackling in her veins and igniting them molten red. 

 

_ Your powers are growing, your precious Skywalker is gone, and there’s no one to teach you,  _ came his voice across their bond, surprising gentle, caressing.

 

_ I have the Jedi texts, _ Rey spat in response, her eyes flickering to them automatically where they sat on her shelf.

 

_ Dusty tombs filled with ancient history and nothing more _ , came his response, elitist and above it all.  _ You’ll learn nothing from them. You need a teacher. _

 

_ Leia- _

 

Another laugh, this one crueler, colder.

 

_ That woman cannot teach you how to do anything besides parlor tricks. _

 

He continued.

 

_ You’re strong with the Force, Rey. Growing stronger each day. You need someone to guide you, to teach you control. Else you just might one day destroy your precious Resistance base in a flash of anger. _

 

His words caused a flutter of panic in her stomach, eyeing the pieces of the lightsaber that had landed across the room.

 

But no, she wouldn’t let it get that bad.

 

_ I told myself that too. But Skywalker betrayed me and, in my anger, the Jedi temple burned. _

 

His voice was blasé, unemotional, but Rey felt the tug of regret inside of her - felt  _ his _ regret.

 

There was still Light in him, she  _ felt _ it. If only she could get him to turn.

 

_ Give into me, Rey. You will be by my side, eventually. I’ve seen it. _

 

Rey inhaled a shuddering breath.

 

_ It’s your destiny.  _

 

Rey shook her head.

 

She had seen Ben’s future herself. 

 

Just a glimpse, but solid and clear.

 

He would turn, she knew. He would return to the Light.

 

But he had seen her turn as well. Had seen her by his side, thriving in the passion of the Dark.

 

She knew that neither of them had been wrong. That both would come to pass.

 

But Rey turning to the Dark?

 

She would never.

 

Not unless she was forced to do so. And one could not force someone to the Dark.

 

At the thought, Rey raised her head from where her face was nestled in her hands.

 

No, one could not be forced to one side or another.

 

One must choose it freely.

 

She took in a breath, the reality of their situation clear to her now.

 

Rey had to stop forcing Ben to choose from the safety of her own side. She must instead allow him his own choice,  _ by his side _ .

 

They had told each other they were not alone. But they were on separate sides. They were more alone than ever, despite their forcebond.

 

Should they both be on the same side, both Dark, it meant that they could choose  _ together _ the Light.

 

And it had to be together, because, for better or for worse, they were intrinsically tethered to one another the rest of their lives.

 

Rey had made up her mind.

 

_ I’m coming. _


	2. Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is some very heated smut. You've been warned. (Inspired entirely by SJM - some direct quotes used, but mostly a SW-type twist on her ACOMAF Court of Nightmares scene with the same general progression.)

Kylo _knows_ when she decides, even before she says the two words that has a dark smile painting his lips and their Force bond purring.

 

He can feel it - where there once was indecisiveness, there is now resolve.

 

He knows what she’s thinking when she records a holo for her friends, takes a junk ship that’s long past its prime, and leaves whatever godforsaken planet the last dregs of the Resistance is now cowering on.

 

Closer and closer she draws to him, their bond like a glittering, starlit string that snaps, rebounds, and pulls her back to him.

 

Her jump to lightspeed has their bond thrumming in pleasure as they draw closer and closer together.

 

He is sure she will find him. Even if she didn’t know where the First Order - which was transitioning into the Galactic Empire once more - was currently stationed, the bond would always let them find one another.

 

When she arrives in their orbit, the tether tightens in both their chests, drawing them together like magnets.

 

When her ship enters the hanger of the space yacht, her presence cleared already by his instructions to his personal guard, he takes another sip of his champagne.

 

When he feels her outside the doors to the ballroom, he affixes his eyes on those towering, massive doors and awaits his Empress’ entrance.

 

When Rey finally does enter, Kylo is deeply surprised.

 

He thought he knew her every thought, but this goes to show he does not.

  
Dressed in a gown dark as night, her tan skin is on expansive display, golden and tempting under the chandeliers of Prism Light.

 

Her hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense braid, close to her head.

 

Her eyes, darkened with kohl, glow in an almost ethereal fashion, and her lips are painted the same crimson as his blade.

 

She looks like vengeance and death.

 

She looks like an Empress.

 

She scans the room before focusing on where he lounges in a throne at the front of the room, atop a dais.

  
Their eyes lock and the bond thrums in delight.

 

Her eyes never leave his as she sweeps forward, walking as though she is going to battle.

 

And he realizes that her gown, her makeup, it is all battle strategy.

 

Her armour and shield.

 

Weapons at her use.

 

Guests move out of her way, unaware as to why. Soon, there is a path for her, leading straight to him.

 

**Always leading back to him.**

 

She stops before the dais, eyes never hesitating.

 

Standing, he walks to the edge of the dais and lifts his hand.

 

* * *

 

 _My mother has as immaculate a taste as ever,_ he murmurs over their bond, eyes scanning her form with a dark appreciation.

 

Rey stood in front of him like some prize to be claimed, which, in a way she was. But she was also so much more.

  
A martyr. A boon. A call to the Light.

 

Yet, now that she is here, the Dark calls to her, caresses her with its shadows. It is hard to resist, and so she does not, giving in.

 

If she must become the Dark to turn him to the Light, then so be it.

 

Kylo stood and offered her a single leather-gloved hand, and Rey’s mind flashed to a similar offering almost a month prior.

 

Her hands no longer shake in the folds of her gown. She has already made her choice.

 

Slowly, yet determinedly, she raised her hand to place it in his-

 

“Guards, apprehend that filthy desert rat-” came the nasal voice of a red-haired man who appeared from the crowd suddenly.

 

The man was choking on his words before he could even finish the sentence.

 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t speak to your Empress like that, General Hux,” Kylo interrupted smoothly, eyes dark as her gown as he stared at the man as one would a particularly disgusting insect.

 

He once more met Rey’s gaze, Hux still choking audibly in the background.

 

Rey, gaze steely and heart set, accepted his gloved hand, stepping up beside him on the raised dais.

 

She swept her gown’s train out behind her, a dark waterfall of diaphanous silk that spilt gently down the steps.

 

Hux’s face was the same red as his hair, almost purple, by the time Kylo released his force choke a moment later. He struggled to breathe without gasping, not wanting to create a scene - to expose his humiliation, though many had already seen.

 

When he finally could again rasp air down his windpipe, however much his throat groaned in protest, he swept into a stiff bow.

 

“Apologies, Your Imperial Majesty. I only thought to-”

 

“I don’t employ you _to_ _think_ , General. Leave that to my strategists and advisors.”

 

Hux’s face became red once more, this time from rage.  
  
But, wisely, he simply bowed and walked stiffly away, fists clenched.

 

Kylo turned to Rey once more, eyes sparking with something that made Rey both wary and aroused at once.

 

“So you’ve finally joined me.”

 

The words, spoken aloud to her, are his first words not spoken over the bond since the day he proposed her place at his side.

 

Rey holds his stare, none of his dark mirth in her own gaze.

 

“So it seems.”

 

He tilts his head, those dark, dark eyes piercing her very soul.

 

“Does it seem or is it?”

 

Rey’s response leaves no doubt in his mind as she subtly lowers her head to him.

 

“It is, _Master_.”

 

A ripple down the bond.

 

Kylo feels himself twitch in his trousers in response to her actions, having imagined her calling him that name in the dark of night, his hand wrapped around his flushed, weeping cock.

 

The reality of it is so much more delicious than he could have ever imagined.

 

He raises her chin with one gloved finger, until their eyes meet once more.

 

He is not surprised by the ferocity he sees there, neither by the determination.

 

Still lightly grasping her chin, he rubs his thumb over her crimson lips, smearing the cosmetic slightly.

 

It looks like blood on her mouth.

 

He leads her to his throne, sitting himself before pulling her onto his lap.

 

Tugging off his gloves, he places them on a small table beside the throne that also holds his lightsaber.

 

He drapes one hand on the arm of his throne, the other encircling her waist, holding her to him.

 

They survey the crowd of people, their subjects, with reserved interest, his hand drifting to skim over the exposed cuts in the sides of her gown, stroking golden taunt skin underneath.

 

His other hand shifted, trailing down her exposed thigh, tan and endless.

 

Rey felt a fire light in her belly, crackling, burning, and their bond hummed in triumph.

 

Kylo brought his mouth to her ear, their subjects watching them with engaged interest. His warm hand continued to teasingly encircle her golden skin in lazy, light touches.

 

“This is where you belong, Rey. At my side. Or, rather, on my throne.”

 

His breath was midnight smooth, tempting and dark, caressing her ear, their bond.

 

His hand slid higher up her thigh, proprietary and ever smug.

 

The bond purred in pleasure between them, echoing a distant gratuitous glee that was dark and stunning.

 

Rey leaned into his touch, into his muscled form swathed in royal regalia. Draped in medals and pendants and reeking of power.

 

She was not entirely oblivious, however, to the many curious and prying stares of their subjects. No, she was not oblivious, simply apathetic.

 

Kylo caresses along the sensitive juncture of the inside of her knee, and Rey forgot every thought she’d had or possibly had ever had. Every single firing neuron focused infinitesimally on that fleeting brush of skin on skin.

 

_The Dark thrives within you, fills you with a passion that you’ve been unable to experience until now._

 

It is not a question, but a statement - he knows it is true, can feel it within himself. 

 

 _Perhaps I’ve never had the proper motivation to let it in before now_ , Rey replies, feeling his obvious arousal against the curve of her ass.

 

His large, warm hand flattens on her golden thigh as he angles his head to survey the ever-spiralling state of her. Heavy-lidded eyes, flushed skin, a smattering of golden speckles across the highs of her cheekbones. And ruby lips that were parted, panting in need.

 

_How sagacious of you._

 

A smirk curls at Rey’s rosebud lips, a cat who’s gotten the cream.

 

His dark eyes linger on her a moment more, mesmerized perhaps, before he tugs at her earlobe with glinting teeth.

 

She goes slack and then tense all at once…

 

Maker, the rippling, infinite power of him, tasting of cinnamon and heated dark, ached low in her throat.

 

Rey knew he’d become aware of the shift in their bond resonating between them. She was fully awake, open to the Force, to all its possibilities.

 

His fingers paused momentarily before his thumb again stroked down her inner leg, harder, more insistent.

 

A muted thunder filled Rey’s ears, making her into a willing oblivion, gone to everything but the silver fire that burned down their bond.

 

The music was blossoming in the air, some melodious number, and people danced gaily across the floor in a beautiful waltz.

 

The ballroom was alive with celebratory aura, thinking the war between the First Order and the Resistance was finally over. But Rey didn’t think that _her_ euphoria was due to the same thoughts.

 

His eyes on the crowd, Kylo’s fingers continued their leisurely, determined caresses, ever more daring.

 

Rey felt the stares on their forms. Even as their subjects intermingled and made merry, she knew they were ever-intrigued.

 

And yet, like it always was in the misty cleft between their souls, it was only the two of them.

 

Kylo nudged the junction between her neck and shoulder with his aquiline nose, followed by a passing graze of his plush sinner’s mouth.

 

Rey felt liquid pool at her core. Heat lit her blood aflame.

 

Rey surprised herself by manifesting a coherent thought. She wondered what sins Kylo wouldn’t commit in this throne room of his. How far he would go with her in his arms.

 

The quartet began another piece, dripping and slow like dulcet syrup —and edged into a darker melody, accompanied by the singing of strings.

 

Rey felt, more than ever, their bond humming, filled with a dark heat that she’d never felt before.

 

_You could feel this every day with me, Rey. Not having to suppress your emotions, letting the Force fill your every waking moment._

 

Rey reached down the bond between them, caressing that starlit tether that bridged their souls.

 

_Yes._

 

Those large, hot hands of his tightened, clenched, and his eyes sparked with that same dangerous predatory glint that had overtaken him on Starkiller.

 

Rey knew him well enough by now to know what it was — an unleashing.

 

Rey simply responded by opening her legs wider to him, greedy as ever and more than willing.

 

 _Why’d you stop?_ she said into his mind, across their bond.*

 

A sensual growl reverberated against their bond. He sucked at her neck until a starburst of blood bloomed violet and cerise underneath its golden surface.

 

She let her head drop back against his shoulder.*

 

And opened herself entirely to the Force, became it.

 

She became the flitting, light music, and the effervescent bubbles in the champagne, and the perfume decorating the crowded air. She merged with the Force and became a wild, Dark thing in her Emperor’s arms.

 

His eyes were completely glazed over—and not with power or rage like she usually saw them in their many battles. Instead, something splashed with crimson and edged with a glittering darkness that echoed down their bond.*

 

Rey grabbed one of his large hands, so huge in her own, needing to feel him, to know he was corporeal and _here._

 

He responded by nipping at her neck, pressing a lingering kiss at the soft crevice under her ear.

 

Rey gasped in a breath.

 

Silver-blue lightning streaked across her veins, lit the entirety of her. She was going to combust right here—*

 

 _Easy_ , he chastised with wicked amusement through their silverlit bond.

 

Kylo's hips ground into her and she suddenly said to hell with it - decided to entirely forget about the party going on around them.

 

She had been alone on that scrap heap of a planet for so long, her only company the infinite desert and her will to live. Her traitorous body yearned for love and the simple fact that she was no longer alone. Would never be alone again.

 

She was a greedy little thing, born of the glittering sand and eternal sun, and when she wanted something, she set her sights and sank her teeth into it.

 

And right now Rey wanted _more more more_.*

 

Kylo, as if hearing her, once more skimmed the stiffness of her nipple with a lazy finger, and his tongue slid up the side of her neck, drawing a line of depravity that made her stomach clench.

 

Rey arched sinfully in response, eyes heavy-lidded, breathing erratic.* She was nothing and everything. Cold and hot. Dark and Light.

 

She’d burn and burn and burn—*

 

 _That’s it_ , Kylo breathed to her, encouraging her.

 

Kylo’s unoccupied other hand drifted teasingly south.

 

She was aching for him there, wanted his touch like she needed the recycled air filtering through the ship. But she wore no undergarments beneath, nothing to conceal the evidence of her complete and utter infatuation with him.

 

Yet Rey couldn’t find it within herself to stop him.

 

His hand slid, fingers curving on silken flesh, a claw against the heat of her inner thigh.

 

She ground against him desperately, trying to get those large hands where she most wanted them, and found him harder than she knew possible against her backside.

 

Every thought flitted from Rey’s dopamine-addled mind. Only the addictive, arching thrill of power remained as she writhed along his impressive length. Kylo let out a low, rough laugh in response.*

 

She turned suddenly and met his lips with her own.

 

Power and Darkness and cinnamon and heat.

 

It both destroyed and remade her.

 

Kylo dragged his mouth away, his hand slid against her, and, finally, he brushed amusedly where she ached for his touch.

 

Kylo paused at his discovery.

 

Rey felt his dark, predatory focus on the slickness he felt between the cradle of her thighs.

 

The bond roared between them, his arousal and enrapture with her amplified until she breathed and she _was_ him.

 

The bond hastened to a crescendo, heat and Light and Dark and power, thrumming and building and aching.

 

The feel of him threatened to destroy her, consume her, and—

 

He pulled his hands away.

 

“We should continue this somewhere privately,” he growled to her, his voice breathless and dark.

 

Indeed, they had gathered quite a crowd of admirers, and Rey could only nod in breathless agreement.

 

“Come. I’ll introduce you to the Imperial Suite.”

 

And so they left that glittering ballroom of gold behind them and discovered the Universe was not as big as they’d both thought it was.

 

It was simply the two of them, forever and always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I'll add to this. Tell me what you think please :)
> 
> *Pretty much a direct quote


	3. Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sex scene you've all been waiting for.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains HEAVY religious themes/Western Christianic Bible verses in relation to sexually thematic elements. If you are notably religious, this may disturb you. Also, I’ve decided that this will be a SUPER DARK fic, with maybe some morally grey areas, but likely not a lot of Light side Rey or Kylo (AKA Error 404 Ben Solo NOT found). Also, there will be (sort of breeding)/pregnancy/lactation kinks in this fic. If any of this bothers you, I suggest leaving now. If not, buckle up for the ride on the party bus to hell, kids. Pray for me too, if you’re feeling so obliged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains HEAVY religious themes/Western Christianic Bible verses in relation to sexually thematic elements. If you are notably religious, this may disturb you. Also, I’ve decided that this will be a super DARK fic, with maybe some morally grey areas, but likely not a lot of Light side Rey or Kylo (AKA Error 404 Ben Solo NOT found). Also, there will be (sort of breeding)/pregnancy/lactation kinks in this fic. If any of this bothers you, I suggest leaving now. If not, buckle up for the ride on the party bus to hell, kids. Pray for me too, if you’re feeling so obliged.

The Imperial Suite is dripping in opulence, an extravagance that breaks through the haze of Dark. It has Rey gritting her teeth.

 

While the Emperor sleeps on black silk sheets hand-embroidered with gold adornments, there are people starving, barely scraping by from day to day.

 

She had been one of those people, taking each day as it was, not being able to afford thinking beyond the day she was living. Having to scavenge in the searing heat amidst metallic graveyards, boasting real danger in their sharp, rusted edges and burning hulls.

 

Kylo senses her thoughts, his hand tightening around her hip in an attempt at physical comfort.

 

She doesn’t like it, can’t believe this man can feel anything besides bloodlust and dominance.

 

“We have the power to change that now. We control the entire galaxy - can distribute wealth the way it should be, help those who need it most.”

 

It’s as if he’s reached into the depths of her mind and pulled out exactly the right words to appease her aching soul - and maybe he has.

 

Either way, she turns to him with hope shimmering in her eyes and adoration settled on her lips, contentment arcing along the curve of her cheekbones.

 

He captures her rosebud mouth in a kiss, rolling his wicked tongue along the seam of their lips.

 

She parts for him, allowing him to explore her mouth, consume her completely.

 

He savors the way she tastes, like gilded honey and iridescent power, shimmering and strong.

 

A dull fire burns between them ( _always has_ ) and has them both aching, desperate.

 

But he is determined to take things slowly - to worship her, body and mind and soul.

 

She is his Empress, after all.

 

He backs her towards the bed, big enough for both of them, and then some.

 

He calls on the Force, having it undo each intricate button at the back of her dress, before reaching out to slide it off her with his hands.

 

Tanned, supple skin is bared to his gaze, and he drinks all of her in.

 

She’s gained weight since Starkiller, a noticeable curve to her hips and a fuller weight to her breasts.

 

But he is not fooled. He knows beneath the freckle-smattered skin and sloping curves of her is hardened muscle. She is as lethal as she is tempting.

 

His gaze settles on her upper thigh, where her lightsaber rests, tied to her with a leather string.

 

Slowly, his eyes flick up to her face to see her staring at him with dark mirth.

 

She could strike him down right now if she wanted to, with just a flick of her wrist and the press of a button.

 

But she does not, instead undoing the makeshift garter and setting her lightsaber on the bedside table.

 

He breathes easier.

 

She’s working at his own clothing then, pushing the cape from his broad shoulders, undoing the brocade black doublet beneath that boasts numerous medals of valor.

 

When she comes to his body armor, she pauses, glancing upwards at him in subtle curiosity.

 

He gives her a gentle smile, one reserved just for her.

 

Taking her hands ( _so small in his own_ ), he shows her the clasps that hold the plated metal to his form.

 

He shows her the way to make him vulnerable, to remove his protective covering.

 

The irony is not lost on him - the fact that he is baring himself to his once-enemy.

 

But she is just as bare as he, and they are no longer enemies.

 

Not entirely, anyway.

 

He suspects there will always be a part of them fighting one another, that ancient battle of Light versus Dark.

 

That is, unless one of them completely yields.

 

The idea of her entirely Dark, swathed in nothing but a collar of rubies around her elegant neck and a diadem on her brow leaves him hard and aching.

 

A soft gasp has him glancing downwards to where Rey is working his pants off of him.

 

There is one layer left between their bare bodies, yet she eyes the already bulging size of him through the fabric of his undergarment.

 

Seeing her bare on her knees before him, looking worried at the size of him strokes his ego darkly.

 

But he watches in wonder as she schools her face into one of determination, and pulls the last layer between them away with sure hands.

 

Neither of them has done this before, he knows, but he is not worried. They will figure this out together, like they do everything else.

 

She steps away, her knees hitting the back of the bed.

 

Her eyes flit over his naked form, taking all of him in. From his scars to his beauty marks to his muscles.

 

He lets her, unperturbed.

 

They have already seen one another’s minds, their very souls. He knows outer appearance matters little in comparison, that she would accept him no matter how he appeared.

 

Nevertheless, the way her pupils dilate and how she discreetly rubs her thighs together tells him that she appreciates his physical form very, very much.

 

He steps towards her, and her gaze flickers to his painfully erect member, flushed and weeping for her.

 

Her lower lip catches between her teeth, and her eyes grow infinitely darker from lust.

 

A slight growl exits his mouth at the sight, and he moves in with a singular, predatory focus.

 

At his approach, she falls backward on the bed with a soft thump, held up on her elbows. The sight of her on his bed, looking so beautiful and aroused, suddenly has him smug and breathless in turn.

 

This is what he dreamed of, what he foresaw.

 

Her at his side, in his bed, ruling the galaxy with him.

 

His eyes flicker over her once more, the way she subtly opens her legs wider at his direct gaze on the thatch of damp curls at the cradle of her thighs.

 

She’s so _beautiful_.

 

Amidst all the black, her skin glows golden. He can’t help but think she looks like the sun in a dark sky.

 

She is not just his Empress now - no, she is an ethereal being. A goddess of chaos and destruction, of rebirth and fertility.

 

He leans down on the bed, his massive body hovering over her, positioned on his elbows and knees.

 

He’ll gladly worship at her altar, supplicate himself at her feet.

 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” he murmurs to her, awe coloring his tone, licking and sucking a wet line along her collarbone.

 

She shifts restlessly beneath him.

 

“Then get on it with it,” she breathes in response, voice much higher pitched than usual.

 

A dark chuckle rumbles from him, and he nips at her ear teasingly, blowing a cool breath there.

 

“Oh no. I’m taking my time with you, sweetheart.”

 

She is his religion, and he her devout acolyte. You cannot rush orison.

 

Rey whines in response, needing his touch, aching for him.

 

“Please,” she requests, utter desperation in a pretty package.

 

“Pleas will get you nowhere, my Empress.”

 

(As if he would take her like some common whore, this divine being before him.)

 

His hand shifts over her form, up the plane of her stomach, teasing along the underside of her full breasts.

 

He imagines her stomach swollen with his child as his hand brushes over it, her breasts heavy and leaking rich, dulcet milk.

 

She sees it in his mind’s eye, knows it will come to pass.

 

This is their destiny, to create and bear heirs to their Empire, to assure their legacy is strong and powerful.

 

Rey had once worried that she would be as barren as the dessert, her womb an unforgiving place of infertile sand and withering sunlight.

 

But now she knows it will not be hard - they are both purebloods, power mingling in their veins and waiting to be passed on.

 

As Snoke had once said, the potential of their bloodlines was _infinite_.

 

Kylo presses a kiss to where their child will grow, muttering a prayer into the ether that Rey will be fertile and conceive that very night.

 

_This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, and I shall be your disciple._

 

The words echo in Rey’s mind, sounding like a thousand voices chanting, instead of simply one.

 

Trailing his fingers lightly along her sides, Kylo causes goosebumps to rise on her bare form, causes her abdominals to clench.

 

He finally rewards her patience with a kiss to both hipbones, breathing in the heady smell of her arousal.

 

Her body is a holy place, divine and powerful.

 

As she opens her legs further to him, baring herself fully, he eyes her glistening center with what can only be described as reverence.

 

She is offering herself to him. Allowing him to touch her, to worship her body - a temple in all respects.

 

He groans low in his throat, mouth watering for a taste of her.

 

He will not deny himself that.

 

Hooking his hands under her thighs, he drags her closer, placing a leg over each of his broad shoulders.

 

She is small beneath him, his hands spanning across her entire thigh, but he knows that her size does not match her fury.

 

His mouth lowers on her, and the first swipe of his snake’s tongue has her gasping.

 

He drinks her like wine, honeyed and golden, shifting in ripples across his agile tongue.

 

She is not a quiet thing, instead a creature of cries, moans, mewls.

 

She threads her hands in his dark locks, sharply tugs, using him as an anchor in a deep sea of pleasure.

 

Sooner than he would have thought, she gushes around his tongue, crying out as waves of pleasure engulf her body.

 

He pulls back languidly, chin dripping in her.

 

This desert goddess, sun-licked and forged by heat, offers an oasis inside of her.

 

She roughly pulls him to her, kissing him with all the passion and fury of a reckoning.

 

She drinks the taste of herself from him, lips smearing against one another in a slick imitation of a kiss.

 

“Touch me,” she begs against his lips, voice demanding and yet desperate.

 

He is loathe to deny her, and so does as she says.

 

His hands find themselves skimming her freckle-dusted breasts, tweaking at her rosy nipples, massaging the undersides with slow, gentle strokes of his thumbs.

 

His mouth lowers on her once more, sucking a cerise and violet nebula into the golden skin at her neck, laving at it with his tongue.

 

She presses against him - arching, wanting.

 

His hands drift to the crest of her thighs, smoothing along, before spreading her open to his dark, heated gaze.

 

She glistens for him like she’s been doused in holy water, like her cunt is the beginning and ending of all things, a well of life.

 

She’s slick and tight when he slides a single digit inside her, and she moans automatically.

 

His hands - his fingers - are so large, and it has her desperate for more.

 

He slowly adds a second finger, and then a third, watching as she takes his probing digits inside her easily.

 

He takes his time with her until she’s thrashing and moaning and completely pliant beneath him.

 

The Loth-cat has been tamed to a kitten, purring delightedly at his stroking.

 

Soon enough, she’s stretched and supple about his soaking hand, and more than ready for him.

 

He nuzzles at her neck, pressing a kiss behind her ear, nipping at it.

 

“Are you ready for me, my Empress?”

 

His voice is low, throaty, a song meant only for her on reverent, sinner’s lips.

 

“Yes,” she gasps breathily, right hand trailing down his chest, the other clenched in his hair.

 

“Ready to take me inside you?”

 

A glazed nod, an insistent pull at his hair.

 

He smirks at her impatience.

 

His scavenger takes what she wants, leaves smoke and dust in her wake.

 

Looking down at her slick-covered thighs, he positions his engorged and leaking cock at her entrance.

 

The sight of him about to enter her has his hips jerking involuntarily, brushing against her equally swollen clit.

 

She bucks, whimpering, and claws at his back.

 

His eyes focused on her core, and, finally, the bulbous mushroom head of him pushes into her, spreading her.

 

She whines low in her throat, but takes it, not telling him to stop.

 

He pushes the rest of himself inside her quickly, settled to the root in her warm wet.

 

He senses her pain first.

 

Raw and burning, despite her own natural lubrication.

 

_He’s splitting her apart._

 

Her thoughts eddy with his, swirling and merging like oil iridescent on water.

 

It passes quickly, the pain. No more than a drifting shadow.

 

But the odd, aching sensation of overwhelming fullness still envelops her, makes her want to shift her hips.

 

“ _Move_ ,” she orders him, wanting friction, something to alleviate the feeling.

 

And he does.

 

The first full thrust into her has her gasping in surprise, an overwhelming flood of pain and pleasure setting her nerve endings afire.

 

Dopamine floods her brain, and stars dance like a kaleidoscope behind her eyelids.

 

Kylo keeps his gaze trained on where they are joined, where he sinks into her warmth again and again.

 

Like coming home.

 

His hips stutter at the thought, and he almost comes. Almost.

 

(He is nothing if not someone who can deny their own desires in order to please another.)

 

He worships her body, each thrust one of divine purpose and absolution.

 

As she writhes about his cock, he chants to her across the bond words of devotion and adoration.

 

_I shall covet nothing, except for thee._

 

Her hair is splayed around her face like a bronze halo, like a crown.

 

Her mewls and moans are a heavenly crescendo in his ears.

 

_I shall not worship false idols in stead of thee._

 

Her fingernails brand his biceps, matching imprints of crescent moons that are beautiful in their propriety.

 

He snaps into her roughly, harder, more insistent and volatile in his obsessive madness for her.

 

She is a mess about him, sensation and nothing more.

 

She shudders, twitches, spasms.

 

_I shall have no other gods before thee._

 

Her cunt pulses around him and she cums with a resounding moan. He reaches his peak too, surrounded by her light.

 

He spills inside her, leaving his offering at her altar, at her temple.

 

Her thighs are shiny-slick with his cum, flowing out of her in languid drips as her cunt continues to spasm from the aftereffects of her orgasm.

 

It looks like milk, he thinks.

 

He gazes at it, at his spend coating her, feeling a dark proprietary beast rear it’s head inside him.

 

He gathers the excess, leaking seed with one finger, before sliding it back inside her reverently.

 

In his head, he utters a prayer, a benediction.

 

_This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, and I shall be your disciple._

 

* * *

 

 

The second time he takes her, it is against the viewport.

 

Her slender body pressed against the cool glass, lithe legs wrapped around his waist.

 

He rocks into her again and again, pressing her backside harder and harder into the window with each languid thrust.

 

Behind their enmeshed forms, the brightly-lit planet of Vardos shimmers violaceousagainst the starry black of space.

 

 _You’re mine_ , he snarls across the bond, and she does not deny it.

 

* * *

 

The fifth time he - tries - to make love to her in the fresher, steamy and wet.

 

However, she’s so concerned at wasting the water that he is forced to turn it off.

 

It matters little - he finishes between her water-slick thighs all the same.

 

 

* * *

 

It is not until the seventh time he takes her, his seed buried deep within, that they feel it.

 

A spark in the gray.

 

With heady arrogance, he realizes just as she does.

 

_This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, and I shall be your disciple._

 

 

**She has conceived.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you liked it - what worked, what didn't work, if this was effective, etc.
> 
> <3


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